Changes Begin
by ShortnChic410
Summary: JohnClaire. Just my take on what should happen after 'The Detention'. It doesn't begin on Monday, and it will include other members of 'The Breakfast Club', but the main focus will be JohnClaire
1. Chapter 1

Summary: John/Claire. Just my take of what could have happened after 'The Saturday'. I'm starting out as Claire's point of view, but then I plan to go into a bit of script-ish mode. Review and I shall write some more.

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Breakfast club, including but not limited to, it's characters and locations... and little else besides that, so please don't sue.

What a joyous Saturday night. Claire perched on the stairwell watching her parents bicker back and forth like it was a tennis match. Her Mother would bring up something like Claire's $400.00 Leather Jacket, and how she should have to work for such things, and her Father would repeat that he worked for his money so his daughter wouldn't have to and he could buy her anything he damn well pleased. This happened ten to twelve times over numerous items. She knew the ending to this one. Her Mother would slam the front door and take off to her Aunt Diana's for the night and as soon as she was out the door her Father would be on the phone with Kara or Macy or whatever skank he was running around with this month discussing what Motel to meet at.

'Well, if they're leaving, then so am I.' She stood and turned to her bedroom. Grabbing her running shoes that were practically brand new and slipping them on she realized she had absolutely nothing to be upset about. Sure, she was a pawn in her parents war, at least they didn't force her to take sides. Her parents were decent people to the rest of the World, and when she was spending time with the both of them they would at least make an effort to act civil to one another. Jack and Regina only wanted to hurt each other and never gave it a second thought that it might indirectly be hurting their daughter.

Pulling on a hooded sweatshirt she walked for the hallway flipping her bedroom light off behind her. Taking the steps down she opened the coat closet and realized she really had no decent winter coat. Sure, they would keep you warm until you could run to your Mercedes and turn up the heat, but she wasn't in the mood to drive. She grabbed her brother's Ski Jacket along with her scarf, hat and gloves and made her way out the front door.

She could go to Stubby's party, but she really didn't feel like dealing with Jessica, Melody and Lacey right now. Shermer was a pretty small town, and since it was a little after 10 P.M. most places where she could sit and be alone would be closing, so she made her way towards the school. The wind blew hard, and she could feel the prickle of the cold on her legs. There was a spot on the bleachers just behind the announcers box where the wind was blocked completely. The fields were blocked from sight from passing cars as well, and the stop seemed to offer the peace and quiet that she needed.

The bleachers were often the hangout for Stoners, but beings as it was Saturday night and Stubby wasn't the only person having a party, she knew it wouldn't be a problem. That and they were usually so far gone she wasn't sure they would even know another person existed within a two mile radius.

Rounding the fence that cut off the woods from the fields she turned to climb the steps up to the second level to the announcer's box. It was then that she saw someone laying on their back, breath shooting fog into the cold air. It was a guy, that much she could tell, but she couldn't make out his face, _'probably just a stoner'_ she thought, and started the climb up. The boy sat up and she could feel his eyes on her. She made her way to the box and slid down the wall into her designated spot, and just as she remembered, the wind could be heard but not felt.

Pulling her knees to her chest she fit her legs inside the jacket to get a little warmer and rested her head on her knees.

Her parents were the epitamy of superficiality. Married because at one point they were both Prom King and Queen. It wasn't always this way. Growing up they had been only middle upper class, living in town close to her Daddy's office in a regular three bedroom house, but then all of a sudden business was booming and they moved to what Claire used to refer to as 'The Castles'. With their six chimneys and many balconies they really did resemble castles, and her house now had more rooms then she had fingers and toes.

Money made people evil. But it also made the World go around and Claire couldn't help but feel helpless at the fact that she was stuck in the middle of it. Letting out a sob she didn't hear the guy from below making his way up to the second level. Stalking to the second level was more like it and when she lifted her head only to be met with a pair of ripped jeans she jumped back frightened.

John Bender smirked at her, taking a drag from his cigarette, "Calm down, I ain't gonna hurt you Princess.." He sat Indian style in front of her and tossed his cigarette behind him.

He turned serious for a second "I just..." he paused and looked into her red rimmed eyes which led to her tear stained cheeks "I just heard you cryin' and wanted to see what was going on."

Claire looked in his eyes to find genuine concern, and then launched herself into his arms, knocking him back to the ground.. "Whoa there sweet cheeks, lets save the naughty stuff for when we're some place warm enough to lose the clothes." She laughed, and buried her head in his neck as he awkwardly patted her back.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Breakfast club, including but not limited to, it's characters and locations... and little else besides that, so please don't sue.

Thanks to Philipa Alshre, Lumos2000, Thwarted Moony and TWbasketcase, who were all kind enough to review and give me the encouragement needed to contine.

Walking through the front door quietly John sighed 'Another good ol' day at the Bender household'.

He'd chilled with Mino until 9:00 when he knew it'd be safe to go into the house.

Popping the door closed behind him he turned around slowly.

Mom and Pops passed out on the sofa. Check.

Two bottles of now empty scotch on the coffee table in front of their respective drinkers. Check.

TV turned up to Max Volume with latest rerun of 'MASH' on the screen. Check.

Ahh, something's never change. He gave it to his parents, at least they were consistent.

He had mastered the art of not being around once they reached that pivotal point of fucked-up. By 7:00 they were a quarter of a ways through their bottles, and arguing over Jeopardy. By the time 8:00 rolled around three quarters of their bottles were gone and they were singing along to a sluggish version of Lynard Skynard's 'Freebird' that could only be heard by them. Then there was 9:30, when they would finally gulp down the last of the liquor, turn to look at each other, jump at each other kissing and throttling, and then proceed to pass out in a tangled mass of limbs.

Switching off the TV he grabbed the empty bottles and proceeded into the kitchen. Dropping the bottles into the recycling bin, glass clinking loudly, he whipped around to make sure neither of them had been woken up. Seeing no movement he sighed and sat down at the counter.

He wasn't usually home for dinner, so his Mother always made him a sandwich and put a bowl of soup on the stove for him. Turning the burner on he took a bite of his sandwich.

The rentals would be out for the rest of the night and he could do his usual Saturday night routine. Shit, not tonight.. Rick was up in Chicago trying to land a gig at a club playing the drums for a house band, taking Freddy and Pole with him. That left him sitting here trying not to make a sound with the only T.V. in the house was being guarded by the alchi's.

Finishing off the last of his soup he put the bowl in the sink to wash later on. His Father wasn't that bad, and only got really pissed off if John did something while he was drinking, such as slam the front door accidentally waking him up. Ahh.. the one and only time John landed in the emergency room. His Father may have been drunk, but he wasn't stupid, and they didn't need Social Services coming around.

Grabbing his trench coat off the stool beside him he went out the back sliding door onto the deck. Hopping over he made his way towards the bleachers where he could smoke a joint and no one would bother him. He knew Chris Bowes was throwing a party tonight, so none of the Stoners would be there to beg for his weed.

It was cold out tonight and he pulled his gloves out of his coat pockets to slip them on. He lit a cigarette and cut through the woods towards the fields. Climbing up the stairs he went to the middle of the seats and reclined back across two of them, staring up at the stars letting his mind wonder.

Not even ten minutes later he heard foot steps up the stairs. Sitting upright he noticed it was a chic in an overly sized coat. Couldn't make out her face though. He watched her until she slid down behind the announcers box. He shrugged leaning back.

Then the sobbing caught his attention. Reluctantly getting up and walking towards the annoying ass sound he lit another cigarette. This is not what he wanted to be doing with his Saturday night. Rounding the box he stood in front of the girl. He could see the rea hair sticking out from his cap and mentally slapped himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

It was then that she noticed him, jumping back. Yep, definitely Claire Standish.

"Calm down, I ain't gonna hurt you Princess.." He sat down to be eye level with her, taking one last drag of smoke and tossing it away from him. Well this is amusing.

Irony. She was looking at him questioningly and he stuttered "I. I just.." and struggled to remember why he came up here. _The crying, dumbass_, oh right.. "I just heard you cryin' and wanted to see what was going on."

He expected her to get mad and tell him to get his sorry ass away, but she jumped into his arms and buried her head into his neck, tears making their way through his shirt onto his skin and he was so surprised that he fell backwards her still securely in his arms.

"Whoa there sweet cheeks, lets save the naughty stuff for when we're some place warm enough to lose the clothes." She laughed like he hoped she would and he began to pat her back. He'd been with lots of girls, but this was the first he'd taken the time to comfort. After all, he was usually the reason they were upset. Hurt them before they hurt you, was his motto.

As Claire snorted back tears he hoped to God that she wouldn't have done the same to anyone who would have walked up to her, that he being the source was the only reason she was clinging for dear life onto his neck for comfort. He'd admit he thought she was a bitch on Saturday, but he saw underneath that as well, someone deeper he could relate to as a pebble in the shoe that was their parents' lives. He just hoped she was willing to let the deeper side show, and he hated to admit he'd be willing to do the same.

Hmm. Where should I take this next? I'm open for suggestions, so don't be afraid to give them. :-)


End file.
